


Just a Little Crush

by eponine119



Category: Lost
Genre: 1970s, Crushes, F/M, Miles appears but not enough for a character tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28640901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eponine119/pseuds/eponine119
Summary: Juliet already wants so many things she can't have – why does Sawyer have to be one more?
Relationships: Juliet Burke/James "Sawyer" Ford
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Just a Little Crush

Just a Little Crush  
by eponine119  
November 17-19, 2020

“What's up with you and Sawyer?” Miles asks. He's sprawled on the sofa across from her.

“I have the biggest crush on him right now,” Juliet confesses, unable to hold back the words, or her smile. She feels her face flushing, and she kind of wants to giggle, and it's not because of the wine. Or not just because of the wine. 

“Oh yeah?” Miles hauls himself into a sitting position and his brown eyes light up with interest. “You gonna do something about it?” 

Juliet shrugs and shakes her head a little. She looks around the living room, where it's just the two of them drinking because it's Friday night. Sawyer and Jin are on the night shift this week. Faint static emits from the record player, because the record ended a while ago and they're both too lazy and half-drunk to put another one on, or to reset the arm.

“You want me to do something about it?” Miles offers. 

Her heart skips. “If you breathe a word of this, so help me --” 

He puts up his hands defensively. “I would never,” he promises, and Juliet looks at him hard until she believes him. “But really, I'll help you if you want.” 

She blinks, not understanding. “What?” 

He thinks for a moment. She can practically see the gears turning in his head. She drinks more wine. “I could help you make him jealous,” Miles offers. His eyes are dark in the dim, yellow light. “Nothing like losing your chance at someone to make you realize what you want.”

“How many soap operas do you watch?” she asks. 

Miles laughs. 

“I don't really think a love triangle is the way to his heart,” she says quietly. It kind of kills the mood for her, thinking about it. About him and Kate, and Kate and Jack. About Kate and Jack off the island somewhere together, leaving Sawyer here with her. He hasn't said much to her about it, but she has the impression he's generally unhappy about the way it turned out.

Maybe that's why she hasn't said anything, or done anything. Or maybe it's just a fun distraction to have a little crush on someone and know it's never going to go anywhere. 

They drift into a comfortable silence. Miles apparently doesn't have any more suggestions. She wonders if Miles likes anyone right now. She thinks she'd help him, if he asked. If the tables were turned. Maybe she wouldn't help him make someone jealous, but she'd do what she could. 

The front door bangs open, startling them both. Sawyer stands there, in his jumpsuit, his hair a little wild as though he's been raking his hands through it. 

“James,” Juliet says. She shifts from where she's comfortably curled up on the couch, leaning against one of the pillows. “What're you doing home so early?” She feels like she's been caught doing something she shouldn't. 

“Overscheduled,” he says with an eye roll. He closes the door behind him and the faint scent of fresh air seems to whoosh back out of the room. 

“We were just talking about you,” Miles says to Sawyer, half-teasing, and Juliet glares at him. Her face feels hot. 

Sawyer looks from Juliet to Miles and then back to Juliet. “Anything I should know about?” His lips curl into a playful smile. Without waiting for a response, he walks over to her and picks up the mostly empty wine bottle she'd set down on the floor. He looks her in the eyes. “You drink all this by yourself?” 

Juliet nods, very seriously. 

“No wonder you're so pink and guilty-lookin'.” He reaches out to touch her face and she flinches back. Something flickers in his eyes, but he pulls his hand away. 

He swigs the last of the wine and swaggers over to the record player. Juliet admires the view for a moment, then closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as he changes the disk and turns up the music. Sawyer sinks into a nearby chair with a sigh and unzips the top part of his jumpsuit, exposing the pale green t-shirt he's wearing underneath. “Don't let me interrupt y'all's conversation.” 

“I think we were finished,” Juliet says. She gets to her feet and sways as the room spins around her. Sawyer holds out a hand again, as though on the verge of getting up to steady her. “I'm fine,” she insists, though she's pretty sure the only thing that will hurt more than her head in the morning will be her regrets when she thinks about this evening. 

“Maybe you should tuck her in,” Miles teases. 

“Miles!” Juliet cries sharply. Sawyer looks at her curiously. “I'm fine,” she insists again, and manages not to trip over her feet as she makes her escape. 

…

“Get under here.” A hand reaches out and pulls her under the overhang of one of the yellow buildings and out of the rain. 

Juliet would know that voice anywhere, and the feel of that hand wrapped around her arm. His skin is hot against hers, which is cold and damp. He holds on for a half-second too long, and she raises her eyes to see Sawyer looking at her curiously. 

“Walkin' in the rain, huh? You like pina coladas, too?” 

“Wasn't raining when I left,” she points out. It's true. When she left the house to go on a walk to clear her head, the sky was clear blue and the air was warm. Unlike now, when the clouds have opened overhead, giving way to a torrential downpour. Puddles form in the mud at their feet. Her pale blue tank top is soaked, and she's trying hard not to shiver. 

Sawyer whips off the shirt he's wearing and drapes it delicately around her shoulders, like he's afraid to touch her. She starts to shrug it off and hand it back to refuse it. 

“Hell of a way to win a wet t-shirt contest,” he says, and his eyes linger on her body before he blinks and meets her eyes. “Your lips are turnin' as blue as your eyes there, Sinatra.” 

Juliet concedes, and slips her arms through the sleeves of his shirt. It's warm from the heat of his body and it smells good. It's all she can do not to sink into it and bury her nose in the collar. She pulls it around herself instead, pushing away thoughts of how warm she would be with his arms wrapped around her.

“Since when do you wear undershirts?” she asks, looking at him. The thin white shirt skims the muscles of his stomach and emphasizes the tan of his skin. She thinks about him being shirtless in the jungle, and emerging from the sea wetter than she is now. 

“Since I started wearin' an itchy jumpsuit to work,” he answers, shaking the hair out of his eyes. “Started wearin' underwear, too.” A dimple forms in his cheek and his eyes sparkle. He's teasing her again. 

Juliet can't even come up with a response to that. Silence falls over them, with nothing but the sound of raindrops hitting the roof and the ground and trickling down the gutters. They stand with their backs against the building, watching the downpour. They're close enough that when he breathes, Sawyer's shoulder brushes hers.

“What the hell was up with you and Miles the other night?” 

“Nothing,” she replies evenly. “Just another Friday night.” 

“I never seen you get that drunk on a Friday night,” he points out. “And you've been avoiding me.” He intentionally bumps his shoulder against hers. 

“Have not,” she lies, looking down at the ground, watching the way the rain is turning it to mud. She raises her eyes to look at him. “Why would I do that?” 

“You tell me, Juliet.” 

Every time he says her name that way, it melts away a little bit more of her resolve. She already wants so many things she can't have – why does he have to be one more? 

“James, I --” She stops, because she isn't sure what to say. _I like you_ sounds so juvenile. She looks up at him, wishing he would make the first move so she won't have to, knowing that he isn't going to. He's still in love with someone else. She sighs and looks away. The cacophony of water has ended and there's a sliver of blue in the sky. “I think it's stopped raining.” 

He's still looking at her when she glances back at him. “I hadn't noticed.” He is looking at her like she's the only thing he can see. 

“Bye, James,” she says, and starts walking away. 

“Wait a damned minute,” he calls, irritated, but she doesn't look back, and he doesn't follow. 

…

“He gave you his shirt?!?” Miles is incredulous. 

“Keep your voice down,” Juliet warns. The rest of the house is asleep, but not for long. It's morning, and Juliet is eating Dharma Cheerios. Miles hovers over the stove and Juliet had decided to tell him what happened out in the rain the day before.

“He gave you the perfect chance and you didn't take it,” Miles says. “I don't understand you.” 

She just shakes her head. She doesn't feel like she can explain it. Not to Miles, and maybe not to herself. 

“What's so hard about this? You like the guy. He likes you.” 

“No,” she says, because Sawyer doesn't like her. 

“He gave you his shirt!” Miles cries again. 

“What does that even mean?” She leans against the counter and rakes her spoon through the soggy eight-sided wheels in her bowl. 

“In every romantic movie, the guy takes off his jacket and gives it to the girl at some point. It's a symbol to show the audience how much he cares about her.” 

“Life's not a movie, Miles,” she says. “He probably just wanted me to cover up.” 

“I guarantee you that's not why,” Miles says darkly, and it makes her look at him. He's looking at her cleavage and she moves her arms as though she can make it go away.

“Why are you so invested in this?” she asks. 

“You're an idiot.” He bites savagely into a piece of bacon. 

“Miles.” 

“You're my friend,” he says, with an expression that almost begs her to stop. “And you're an idiot.” 

“Who's an idiot?” Sawyer asks, ambling into the kitchen with eyes that are still sleepy. He's wearing only a pair of loose pajama bottoms that hang low on his hips, and his hair is perfect. 

“Juliet,” Miles answers. 

Sawyer looks at her, amusement lighting his eyes. “Why's --” 

She's done with this. “Did you know Miles is an expert on romance in the movies?” Juliet says, irritated. “He'll tell you all about it.” She walks away, abandoning her cereal bowl on the counter. 

“What the hell was that?” She hears Sawyer ask, from behind her. She just keeps walking. 

…

Friday night, and there's another open bottle of wine, though Juliet hasn't had much more than a few sips. She even poured it into a glass this time. She feels like been drinking too much lately. They all do, out of boredom as much as anything else they might want to forget or repress. 

The slick pages of a magazine whisper as she flips through them. Sawyer sits a chair nearby, reading by a book. In spite of herself, she keeps sneaking looks at him, noticing the way the lamplight catches the highlights in his hair and the way his face moves in reaction to whatever it is he's reading. Of course he catches her looking. 

He widens his eyes at her, questioningly, and it makes her smile, though she tries to stifle it. “Do you think Jin volunteers for the night shift?” she asks, for something to talk about, since he's closed his book for a moment, using his finger between the pages to hold his place. 

“Jin ain't workin',” Sawyer says, like it's something she should have known. “Him and Miles went to some party.” 

“I guess I wasn't the only one not invited.” She meets his eyes. 

“I was invited. I just didn't go,” Sawyer says casually.

“You skipped a party to sit around here?” She stops herself from adding “with me,” to the end of her sentence. 

“This here's a party,” he says, with a devilish grin. “We got booze.” He offers her the wine bottle and she shakes her head. Aware of his eyes on her, she sips from her glass and then sets it on the coffee table, a little beyond easy reach. He nods toward her magazine. “Whatcha readin'?” 

“Cosmo,” she says, and sighs. All the stories in it seem as dated as the hairstyles. “So much blue eyeshadow.” She drops it onto the coffee table and then doesn't know what to do with her hands. 

“They got any good sex tips in there?” He gives her a playful look and starts to reach for the magazine. 

“Not like you'd need them,” Juliet says, and instantly regrets it. 

But Sawyer lets out one of his rare laughs, and it makes Juliet smile in spite of herself. He holds her gaze and the moment between them becomes charged, electric, in a way she can feel all the way in the bottom of her stomach. In another minute, he's going to say something and she's afraid of what it might be. Her heart beats hard in her throat. “You ever get lonely, James?” 

He takes his finger out of the pages of his book and turns down the corner of the page. Then he sets it on the coffee table, very deliberately, committing to their conversation. He takes off his glasses. Juliet has always found something impossibly sexy about the moment when the glasses come off. She watches him fold them up so carefully and then set them on the table. He's buying time. 

Sawyer looks at her for a long moment. His eyes are dark and unreadable. But then he raises his eyebrows, lightening his expression. “I usually go after what I want,” he says carefully, watching her. “You'n me got that in common.” 

“Do you ever wish that just once, someone else would make the first move, so you wouldn't have to?” Her voice is very soft. 

“What're you tryin' to say here, Juliet?” 

She shakes her head. Her eyes are burning and she isn't even sure why. “I'm saying that just once I'd like it if someone... wanted...” She trails off. This isn't the right way to do this. It would have been easy to trade sexy quips and have it lead into the bedroom, but she wants so much more than a casual tumble. She wishes that was all she wanted from him. 

“What're we doing here, Juliet?” he asks, and it's real. It's right there in the way he says her name. 

“We're stuck here,” she says, meaning the 70s, the island, everything.

“Only stuck if it ain't where you want to be,” he points out. “We made our choices.” 

He's right about that. About everything. She looks away and admits, “I told Miles I have a huge crush on you.” 

“Is that right?” he asks. “That true?”

She nods, vigorously and miserably, and puts her head into her hands, just for a moment, because she can't look at him anymore. She wants to hide. Then she drops her hands, placing them against the sofa cushion, ready to get up and go to her room. To escape this and be alone, again. 

It feels like Sawyer reads her mind, because he reaches out and encircles her wrist with his hand. Not holding her very hard, but firm. His skin is hot and dry, and his eyes burn into hers. “You ain't walkin' away from me this time.” 

He shakes his hair self-consciously and gets awkwardly to his feet. The sofa creaks underneath him when he sits down beside her. He looks at her, and she wants to lean back. But she remains perfectly still, sitting up very straight and calm, fighting to keep her breathing even. 

He moves closer, into her space. Releasing her wrist, he strokes her hair, settling his hand against the base of her skull with a tiny, satisfied sound. His eyes turn unfocused, and he tilts his head. She can feel his breath against her skin, and that's when he stops. 

“I do, too,” he says, in a low, velvety voice. Whether he means wanting someone to make the first move, or having a crush, she isn't sure. He gives her a look like he's asking for permission, and then his eyes close as he presses his lips to hers. 

She relaxes for what feels like the first time in months. He sighs softly as she kisses him back. It's slow, and cautious and exploratory. He fills her senses: the clean scent of him, the heat from his skin, which is soft underneath her fingertips. He tastes like the cheap Dharma wine and suddenly she can't get enough. 

He pulls away just as gently. He gives her a searching look. “How's that for not having to make the first move?” he asks. 

She smiles, a full, wide smile, and lets her fingertips trail down his cheek. “James. I told you I had a huge crush on you.” She's amused and a touch annoyed. She made the first move.

He looks surprised. “But I kissed you.” 

“Only after--” she begins to argue, and he places a finger against her lips. It stops her. Her heart races. They aren't just playing here. It isn't just her who feels this way. 

“How 'bout we finish this discussion up in private?” he suggests, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. She comes up with mere inches between them. Impulsively, she brushes her lips against his. He groans and deepens the kiss. His warm, rough hands slide under the hem of her shirt. 

She's breathless and blinks at him, dazed, when he wraps his fingers around her wrist again. But then she hears it, the voices from outside. Miles and Jin, back from the party already. Sawyer leads her into his dark bedroom to the sounds of the front door opening. 

“I thought Sawyer and Juliet were home,” Jin says, behind them, in the living room. 

“Looks like they were just here,” Miles replies, sounding like he's sorting through the books and wine they left on the coffee table.

Sawyer pushes the bedroom door closed firmly behind them, shutting out the light and the sound. He gives her another questioning look. Juliet nods and twists the lock. 

(end)


End file.
